Shadowy Requiem
by Aranatta
Summary: An ancient warlord's rule comes to an end and an unique course of events brings him to Paragon City.
1. The Awakening Part 1: Blood Brothers

**A/N: **Thanks for stopping by for a spell and readin' my work. This is in the City of Heroes section for a reason Chapter 1 may not have a lot to do with that universe. Hang tight possibly loyal reader, we're getting to Paragon City soon.

A few translations for you.

_Ce te-as mai trimite la origini- I'll send you back to your origins_

_Fire-ai al dracului- May you belong to the devil_

**Shadowy Requiem**

**Chapter 1: The Awakening**

**Part 1: Blood Brothers**

Illumination bathed a distance castle. Like the gaze of the gods the moon stared over the dark stone of the towering buildings. Castle Tepes looked over the Transylvanian countryside, its black towers casting a dread sense of protection to the peasantry below, as if the intent of the castle had been fundamentally perverted. Standing amongst the gothic architecture, staring out below to the darkened country was a man. Not any man. This man was special.

Aranatta Tepes stood atop the towering peaks of the high rise. A dull pain ached behind his eyes. He'd not rested in many days. His night had come, his father lay on his deathbed. Years of waiting had finally produced a culmination of events. His father's kingdom would soon be his.

"Is he dead yet?" The brooding man's low voice echoed off the castle fortifications. "Speak sooth, jest not and speak of our father's wellness. Speak, Alucard and tell me of our father's death." He turned, hard features staring at his brother. His brother, Alucard, was only brother in name. Sharing only half of the blood in their veins never truly made them brothers. Had it not been on their father's insistence Aranatta never would have considered Alucard family.

"His passing is not forthcoming. He seeks our audience." Alucard's voice was softer, more solemn then his brothers. He had always been the weaker. His mother being mortal, where in Aranatta's been more then human. The goodness in Alucard's heart and motives gave his brother a palatable distaste for his younger part-sibling. The Tepes brothers exchanged glances for a moment. "Aranatta, his time comes soon; test not his mettle before his death."

Aranatta snickered, _what mettle lasted in their dear father?_ One final wish for his father, the man had taught him enough for that respect, his last respect. He stood and followed Alucard to their father's bed chambers. The colors his father had picked for decor soothed his spirit. Shades of blood red with dark midnight blues tinted with hints of black seemed to calm the uncoiling beast forever beneath his breast. Aranatta sat beside his father on his bed side.

"Speak father, have haste in your words." Aranatta tapped his foot; he sighed heavily and gazed over his once strong father. The dark pacts his father had made were finally taking a toll. "Devil's own luck" they used to call it. Too many lucky events and too many bleak favors drew angst down on their father like moths to candles, with similar disastrous consequences.

"My childer, hither near and take my words to heart and soul. Tend me thy hand so you may know the impact of my counsel." The once proud voice forced out, his long slender hand reached out. Alucard, quickly reached out to hold his hand.

"Still begging for his favor, Alucard? Speak soon father." Aranatta leaned back against a different bed post. A single night of wanton desire had produced Alucard, and that mortality made him weak. Weeping over family was a coward's ploy. Aranatta grinned, his eyes beginning to cast a shadowy glow.

"Pay your brother no mind Alucard. I've ruled this land for many years, the wounds I've suffered are finally proving fatal. Aranatta, my son, you must posses compassion for the lowly humans, the darkest parts of your soul shall damn you to Perdition. Respect above and below, my child. Lo mortals be our substance, nay does that fate damn them to death. Alucard, allow not your human blood to suspend the core of what you are, let not the unhallowed dull the light of your soul. For your fate be grander then furies oft spin. My childer take as you will of my estate, and forget not my lessons. Respect garnered through fear, benevolence and justice. Let not the dark aspect of our lives spoil your hearts." His blood red eyes slowly dimmed into night, his wraithly skin pulled tight and he gasped in pain. His back arced and he fell to the bed, his body turning to ash.

"That is the end Alucard. Our father is dead." Aranatta's hand slowly drifted to the sheathed metal blade at his hip. "I take as I will of his estate. I will take all of his estate, my feeble brother. You may take your leave." The hum of metal sang through out the bed chamber. His time was nigh, finally his father had died. Too long was he in the shadow of his weaker brother, too long was he entrapped in studies and war rooms as his brother was allowed a sunbathed carefree life. Vengeance was his.

"Your life is yours to live brother. Leave me one keepsake of this former life ripped from me before I go. My mother's locket." Alucard reached out and grasped a gold chain from the human shaped pile of dust lying on the bed.

"Take it, I will not reminisce of our father's weak moment with a cattle woman. As you leave, Alucard, tell the serfs of what has happened.

"Tell them Vlad is dead."

VvvV

It had been years since he was up here, one-hundred twenty three to be exact. Aranatta stared off over the country side. He was no longer a Tepes no longer a member of the dark royal family, no longer the son of Vlad or the brother of Alucard. He was Aranatta Toladeth, the drinker of innocence, the bather of blood. The number of atrocities he had committed against mortal law were innumerable and he reveled in all of them. Too often does history repeat itself that new foot steps should be heard at this balcony.

"Speak quickly, say your business and leave me to my contemplations."

"Aranatta Toladeth" The voice was strong, impudent and thick with the rolling lilt of Ireland. Not a servant and not a welcome guest. Aranatta turned to face his trespasser. "I am Alsandair"

"I care not for your name, just the explanation of your expeditious flight from here, emerald tongued worm." Aranatta grasped his blade, he stared an icy glare into the very soul of the armor clad human. His kind was not welcome.

"I have come tae rid ye of this world and tae end yer tyranny of this land. Vlad was a tolerated evil, yer regency has strangled the life of the land, and I've come tae end it." The man produced a chained flail seated from his back.

"A fight there shall be, your name will not be listed amongst your libris. Pathetic mortals, for you have the luck of heroes in your veins you suffer from delusions of grandeur. Not every one of your pathetic little species is saints and saviors. It is a shame you shall mercilessly learn this fact." Aranatta's blade hummed into place. The warlord let loose a low snarl baring long fangs. Dark pacts and black magics coursed into his body, the shadows wrapped around him like a cape.

His father had been young and foolish when he first channeled the shadow magic, Aranatta was not however unprepared. The dark pacts he made with the demons were more solid and placed Aranatta under control. He would not meet an early demise from his pacts, nor would he meet his death at this pup. Some pup who took up his father's flail to strike him down, whose lifetimes still numbered single.

Aranatta charged forward, shadowy tendrils wrapped his fist like a second glove. Jutting his hand outwards, bolts of black magic engulfed the human. Suddenly a shimmer of blue light filled Aranatta's eyes, the sanctified energy seared his eyes stopping him dead charge. He screamed, some heavenly magic wasn't going to do him in. His senses far out matched his opponent.

The boots bounding made rhythmic bass while chain links provided the tempo. Swordplay was a dance he had been told, to dance the tango of war one must flow with the rhythm of combat. Aranatta fluidly slid away from the man's wild strikes, the spiked ball narrowly missing each strike. Aranatta's sight dimly showed streaks of colors towards him, with uncanny speed he parried the chain of the flail spun wildly around the blade. A sharp jerk shattered the chain sending the spiked iron ball cascading over the wall. A wave of thick darkness blasted from Aranatta's hand striking the man against the wall.

"Pathetic." Aranatta taunted, stalking forward, he clenched his fist and oily tendrils wrapped and pulled on the man, holding him tightly against the wall.

"Ce te-as mai trimite la origini!" Aranatta leveled the blade at the man's chest.

"Whosever shed last blood. By man shall his blood be shed. Destroy all that his evil, so that which is good may flourish!" The man screamed, producing a small blue vial hurled it at the demon lord. The glass shattered and the multitude of water droplets each drop burst into a thousand flames on Aranatta's body. The tendrils pulled away from the man and he covered his ears away from Aranatta's unholy shrieks.

Blessed water! Hallowed liquid! Aranatta swore in the language of demons and pulled away from the man.

"Insolent fool and your worthless toys, your god is dead and your sickly faith empowers your tools weakly." Aranatta waved the fire out in a single stroke. Maybe this fight would turn interesting.

"And when I vest my flashing sword, and my hand takes hold in judgment I will take vengeance upon mine enemies" the man pulled a dagger from an inner chink of armor. With unearthly precision the dagger flew past Aranatta's futile block. The dagger embedded deeply into his chest. A spiritual burst of energy channeled into his body. Sending Aranatta reeling in pain, he dropped to his knees.

Interesting turned to possibly lethal in seconds. The man approached him. Aranatta willed the magics to work, willed his body to move, willed his soul to live. The dagger kept him rooted, truly, was this the power of human magic? A pure hatred burned in his eyes as the man pulled loose a cross.

"Fire-ai al dracului!" Aranatta's fiery curse didn't slow the prayer the hunter started. Unholy hellfire appeared behind Aranatta's eyes as it furiously tried to escape.

"And shepherd I shall be. For thee, my Lord, for thee. Power hath descended from thy hand. Our feet may swiftly carry out thy commands. So I shall flow a river forth to thee. And teeming with souls shall it ever be. In Nomeni Patri Et Fili Spiritus Sancti."

The human placed the cross upon Aranatta's forehead. The creature roared in pain searing blue light shed from the cross and engulfed both the Human and the Demon. Aranatta felt his skin burst into flames, his armor singeing and burning. The blasted heat of hellfire itself engulfed and left nothing more then smoldering remains atop the dark castle.

The man looked down at the armored skeleton. He lowered the blue cross and left it on the corpse.

He turned and left.


	2. The Awakening Part 2: The Rescue

**Chapter 1: The Awakening **

**Part 2: The Rescue**

Gregor Richardson rolled his head from side to side the sensation of his neck popping soothed the growing tension. This paperwork was a pain in the ass.

Everything had to be filled out in triplicate, every "i" dotted and "t" crossed. He sighed, moving a sheet of paper to the out tray and grabbing the next. He studied the paperwork for a moment before setting it down on his desk, a detailed report regarding the movements of the Circle of Thorns. The circle had been a thorn in the side of Paragon City for as long as Gregor could remember. Some members of the city council had been convinced that was how their name came about. The truth of the matter was no one was quite sure how they came to their name, a hundred theories had produced a hundred inconclusive investigations, and of course the hero liaisons were blamed for every failure. Heroic liaison had sounded like such an interesting position within M.A.G.I. when he had been chosen for this promotion. Gregor swore silently moving onto the next sheet of paper.

Gregor had been with MAGI for many years, having been recruited shortly after he had left his homeland, arriving penniless and alone on the docks of Paragon City. Australia hadn't been comfortable with a government sanctioned magic association and America had seemed like a bright land of opportunity in his young man's mind.

Gregor hadn't been disappointed, with his new position, he quickly became well known for his aptitude with arcane arts. Few could match is skill in evocation, although, sadly, he never had the patience for divinations. Too many signs needed to be interrupted and too much guesswork had deterred him from that study. It was this ability or rather lack thereof that held him back from advancing within the guild the most. Apparently the ability to see and have others react was more valuable within the guild than the ability to react yourself. Especially in circumstances like the one he had just encountered

He held up a piece of paper and scoffed as he read. Why? A requisition order from the Atlas Park M.A.G.I office for a powerful artifact locked away in their vaults. Surely this was Azuria's doing, she was infamous for preapproving the use of dangerous relics by the city's heroes. With her blasé attitude toward these dangerous items, it was no wonder why so many mystical items went missing under her watch. If her powers of precognition hadn't been so strong she would have gotten a pink slip long ago, of that Gregor was sure.

Extending his hand, Gregor took a moment to settle his thoughts and focus, wrapping his mind around the telephone receiver, grasping it. The object obeyed, floating dutifully into his palm.

"This is Annie, how may I assist you?" A soft and sweet female voice drifted over the phone."Annie, connect me with the Atlas Office, please?" A low ringing answered him signifying Annie having done her job and eventually produced a soft feminine voice that answered him.

"Gregor," the woman said, "I wish I could say hearing from you is a pleasant surprise."

"Azuria, good to hear your voice. I'm shocked you haven't…"

"Called you back? I've told you before, that it was over. We are through. I knew our relationship wasn't going to go anywhere."

Gregor could feel his stomach clench around itself and the rising anger made his face burn. _How would she know? _She'd seen a single avenue of the future not the array of possibilities. How could she be so certain?

Gregor couldn't help but sneer at her words. Few things could surprise a woman who could tell the future from the entrails of a chicken. A romantic dinner of bird on the barbie had turned into an "us talk" because of a trail of chicken blood running down the sink's drain.

"Azuria, Darlin, c'mon, why don't we…"

" I've got plans that night," she interrupted, "besides I know how this all ends already. There's no sense in going through the motions, I'll end up getting hurt."

"_You'll_ just be getting hurt?" The anger simmering under Gregor's skin finally reached its boiling point. "I guess, it's so much easier to _do_ the hurting rather than be the…" This was the problem with loving an oracle.

"Gregor, shut up, before you really offend me." She interrupted "The answer is no and that's that. And grant that request to Big Ol' Hurt, he scouted out a possible lead into Orenabega and defeated Laramis's coven. He'll need the sands to help with a mission, the Phalanx asked him to look into."

The phone went dead with a final sounding click, Azuria not waiting for his reply.

Gregor leaned back in his chair, running his hands over his eyes and adding the conversation to his growing list of why office romances never work. Signing the dotted line on the requisition, Gregor added the last of the paperwork to his _out_ bin and slammed the phone receiver back on to its base. Gently he ran his hand over his forehead, attempting to sooth the headache that was inevitably going to take hold of his concentration. Few long moments passed as he looked up to see his co-workers staring at him from their desks.

"I'm going to lunch." He spoke softly as he could feel his face begin to heat up. Slipping into his blue blazer, He walked out to the front lobby, pausing in front of the desk of the office's receptionist.

"Annie, can you get these to the right departments?" Gregor asked as he carefully slipped the paperwork into the young woman's tray.

Annie's confident, knowing, smile reassured Gregor that he could trust them to be filed with meticulous perfection in the morning. Annie had only been with the organization a few months and already he had come to depend on her greatly.

"Have a good lunch, Mr. Richards." She said flashing him a genuine smile. Gregor meekly returned the smile before leaving the office.

VvvV

The cold night air chilled Agent Jones to the very core. There was something wrong with this wind, it cut through his wool cloak and the kevlar armor he wore beneath it. Normal wind didn't do that…did it? The briefing hadn't mentioned anything about it being so damned windy here. Agent Jones pulled his hood a little tighter around his face. His cheeks were completely numb and he was certain his tears and snot were freezing into his beard. Furtively he wiped at his watering eyes, how fucking cold could it possibly get? It wasn't this cold in Paragon City. It never got cold in Paragon City.

"Alright, tighten up men. Our objective should just be over this hill." Jones rasped into his headset.

"Let's not forget why we're here. Numina briefed us that _something_ of magical significance was supposed to happen here, so keep on your toes. Regardless of what she said, the Arachnos won't be far behind and the last thing we need is to make this operation complex."

Agent Jones surprised himself with his own tone. He hadn't been with the Longbow Organization very long and he had only been recently promoted to Warden. Leadership was overall a new experience for him, and one he was unsure if he enjoyed.

Coming over the crest of the snow laden hill their objective came into view and he gave a heavy sigh of relief as he studied the ruined stone castle, thoughtfully. The moon cast an eerie light bringing the gloom around the castle into stark contrast and making him shiver. This was that cold he had been feeling, a dark cold that chilled him to the very essence of his soul.

"Roberts, take Smith and Hernandez and search the lower floors. Rickford, watch my back, we're going up top." Each man shared a fortifying glance with each other before they separated, moving into the castle. So much could be said with a simple look and to Jones, this look said _Goodbye_.

Adjusting his goggles and bringing in a deep breath, Jones gingerly walked up the stairs of the castle. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, the rush of blood dulling the other sounds around him. Grabbing his canteen, he took a long swig of the water. He held the water in his mouth for a moment letting the water rehydrate the desert that was slowly forming under his tongue.

The rough stonework provided little protection from the numbing cold, and the wind howled between the missing stones allowing his imagination to build a horror movie atmosphere in his mind. Carefully he reached to his back and unleashed a long recurve bow. Bringing it around, he affectionately ran his hand the length of the black steel, quickly ensuring that the sight embedded into the thin, wiry cord hadn't been disturbed during their hike. He knocked an arrow, letting it rest on the arrow bar. Preparing for a fight that he hoped would never come. Behind him, the reassuring click of Rickford's assault rifle helped calm his unraveling nerves somewhat.

They continued up the dark and still passageways of the castle. Carefully checking each room filled with grim decorations and furnishings. Jones' gloved hand ran the length of a particular sacrilegious statue hanging on the wall. He turned back to face Rickford getting his attention from a blood red painting with a simple finger snap.

"Let's get moving on to the next floor." Rickford nodded in response to his captain.

Passing clouds over the moon caused faint shadows to form on the walls, dancing and flickering. . Static echoed into his headset, drowning out the blood that continued to rush in Jones's ears.

"Rickford, how about one of those god-awful jokes of yours? This place is giving me the fucking creeps." Smith's voice came over the radio.

"Alright, did you know this place is where Dracula lived?" Rickford's voice was low, assuming the tone that all storytellers used when starting a particularly scary tale.

"Hey, esay, let's be serious, man, we don't need more damn things to imagine in this fuckin' place, everybody knows that guy never existed anyway." Hernandez scoffed, his bravado feebly hiding the fear in his voice.

"No man, he did," Rickford insisted, "I heard Mirror Spirit talking about it before briefing. She's that magic savant with W.I.S.D.O.M, those new Asian allies of the Phalanx. When we get back home ask Azuria about it."

"Enough, Rickford." Jones said, forcing authority into his tone. Rickford's ability to goad and torment was getting out of hand. They needed to keep sharp here, especially when the shadows seemed to writhe and seethe all around them.

Had to be a trick of light...right?

He looked back with a commanding look to show his tone hadn't been in jest. A dismissive shrug from Rickford sent Jones attention back to the stairwell. "So what about that joke Rickford?" he asked, searching for a momentary distraction away from the supernatural dread that lay thick within the walls

"Fine." Rickford conceded, "So this pirate walks into a bar with a steering wheel around his Johnson and the bartender says..."

Suddenly a high-pitched piercing wail echoed through the stone hallways, followed by the heavy beat of wings on air. Letting out a surprised shouts Jones instinctively raised his bow, and loosed his prepared arrow, hearing Rickford yelling obscenities behind him.

The unearthly screech and the beating of wings were silenced by the sound of ripping flesh and then a sickening thud nearby

Jones adjusted the goggles and walked over to study his kill. A twitching bat lay impaled on the stone, sharp teeth bared and bloody.

"Jones? Jones! Are you okay?" Roberts' frantic voice came over the comlink startling Jones and his partner.

"We're fine, Roberts. It was just a fucking bat." Jones leaned his head back against the cold stone of the wall, willing his heart to return from the nook it had found in his throat.

"A fucking bat, Jesus fucking Christ." Rickford laughed, running a shaking hand through his hair.

"Lord's fucking name" A deep voice spoke from behind Rickford, jumping and quickly spuning to the voice, he met with the tell-tale design of a bane spider helmet. Jones stared in disbelief over Rickford's shoulder. Bane spiders were the most elite of the Arachnos assassins. The men wore dark gray plated armor that always seemed to shift and move with their environments. The many Longbow reports always detailed their ability to sneak up on anything and their ability to feign weakness.

The bane spider brought his bladed mace around, the weapon connecting solidly against Rickford's neck. A sickening crunch provided enough information for Jones to know that Rickford was dead before his body had the chance to crumple to the floor.

Jones and the bane spider shared a grim glance and a sadistic grin curved over the assassin's face. Sounds of gunfire filled Jones' earpiece and he stumbled back, willing his legs to move, to run, to do anything but stare at the grizzled death incarnate he faced. Finally his legs turned to run out a nearby door. He was met with the bright shining light of the moon; he turned his back to the balcony wall.

Trapped.

Why hadn't they been sent with fucking backup? The mission had been made to sound so easy, come to the castle, find the disturbance and get back. Never mind the fact that Arachnos had been there to thwart so many of Longbow's missions.

Agent Jones pulled a small metal box from his belt. He pressed a button and sent the box sailing into the air. Red lasers flashed and took survey of the area displaying the information it took across his goggles. Distance, wind speed, desired angle and trajectory filled his line of vision and he forced himself to focus on the doorway. He knew all the statistics by heart but the hard numbers helped sooth the inaccuracy away from his thoughts. Spinning a dial on an arrow to the correct setting he knocked his bow and launched the arrow into the doorway.

An explosion ripped through the silence. The goggles automatically adjusted to the influx of light the doorway collapse from the exploding arrow securely trapping the Arachnos inside the castle walls for the time being.

That'll buy me some time…

Why weren't the Arachnos following him? Why hadn't they chased him out? Jones felt like he was drowning in silence as he waited for something to happen.

"Sit rep! Roberts…? Hernandez? Smith? Someone talk to me." His only response was the static filling the earpiece.

Damn it.

Jones took a quick survey of his surroundings; a castle balcony, nothing but stone and rock and a deadly swan dive over the wall behind him.

_How dare Longbow not send us any back-up. _he thought, incensed,_ They knew damn well that Ghost Widow would sense the same disturbance as Numina, and Longbow knew the Arachnos would investigate as well._

_Calm down Jones. _A soft, nurturing voice filled his head, gently nudging his own chaotic thoughts out of the way. _Now, stop sitting around like an idiot. _

_Okay, so _maybe not so comforting.

_Who the hell are you? What do you want me to do?_

_Sister Psyche, I'm the back up you were just complaining about. My partner Synapse and I have our hands full with the Arachnos leader and I'm leading Hernandez and Roberts out right now, their comlinks are down. Look carefully at the balcony just above you. I have an extraction team on the way, but you need to get up there, now!_

Jones scowled, his fingers wrapped around an arrow with a thick wire coiling around its tip.

How thoroughly were these psychics briefed before Longbow sent them out? There would be hell to pay for sending his team in blind, for sending him with backup he couldn't call and for Rickford's death. Jones drew back the bowstring and released the arrow. It thudded dully against the balcony stone, dropping down a thin rope.

Grabbing the rope, Agent Jones' muscles strained as he pulled himself up to the upper balcony. Quickly he readjusted his goggles letting the drone's information fill his vision.

It detailed a body shaped pile of metal lying in the middle of the balcony, oddly undisturbed by time. Jones pulled the bow loose again, slowly moving over to the body. He gazed over the sapphire cross lying against the black metal. Standing over the body he finally noticed the black and charred bones.

So, this is what was so important? A corpse and a fancy cross?!

He turned to face the only entrance. His heart echoed in his ears. Slowly the bane spider came into view from the doorway.

"One shall stand, one shall fall." The bane spider's voice boomed over the natural acoustics of the castle balcony. With an unnatural burst of speed it surged at Jones. The Agent dropped back and quickly loosed an arrow, swearing heatedly. The arrow whistled through the air impacting into the hi-tech armor with a dull thud. The assassin didn't slow and the mace connected solidly with Jones' chest, agony swallowing him whole.

Sucking in a painful breath, Jones could taste the blood on his lips. Something was broken sending waves of agony throughout the soldier's body. The agony was amplified by another solid blow to his chin.

His neck popped unnaturally as it snapped back sending lightning bolts of pain coursing down his spine, he landed against the unforgiving stone in a crumpled heap. Jones felt something snap against his back and saw his quiver skitter across the floor, its contents scattering across the ground. Gasping for air, he turned to face the maniacal grin of the spider.

The bane spider's mouth moved, but the sound of his gasping breath and the rushing of blood in his ears drowned out what he expected was a droll monologue of victory. Flailing, Jones reached out and gripped a thick tipped arrow. This would hurt, but he could come out on top, he _had_ to come out on top. Jones hurled the arrow toward the assassin and shielded his eyes.

The arrow connected with the spider's chest and a brilliant flash of light followed by an echoing boom resonated throughout over the balcony. A high-pitched ring filled Jones' ears. He slowly crawled to his feet looking over at the bane spider. Throwing his goggles to the ground he furiously rubbed at his eyes, trying to dispel the colorful afterimages the flash bang arrow had evoked. The goggles protected his senses from a majority of the blast but they couldn't adjust quite fast enough. Reaching down he pulled another arrow from the ground and aimed carefully with his bow. The arrow connected with the exposed portion of the man's flesh from under his helm and a small explosion rocked the armor against the upraised section of the balcony wall.

Kicking the bane spider's gory body, he slowly lowered himself onto the floor next to the charred remains, hissing as the motion jostled his wounds. Keeping a wary eye on the doorway, Jones carefully ran his hands over his chest, feeling for broken ribs as he took slow, shallow breaths, trying to ease the agony that breathing caused.

"Longbow Extraction… this is …Warden…Jones…LZ clear…" He forced out, grimacing

"Warden Jones, this is Chaser 1, extraction en route. Good Job Warden."


End file.
